


Silver Bells

by SegaBarrett



Category: Fear the Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-25
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-02-06 12:36:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,028
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12817671
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SegaBarrett/pseuds/SegaBarrett
Summary: Troy only wanted one thing for Christmas.





	Silver Bells

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Chaosprincess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chaosprincess/gifts).



Jake used to tell him that if he lay very still and listened very closely, that he could hear the bells of Santa’s sleigh.

Troy hadn’t believed it, not really, but he had stayed very still and listened very closely anyway. Maybe if Santa came, he could bring things for all of the Otto family. Maybe his mom would be happy, then, because she would get what she really, really wanted.

And Troy would, too. Troy didn’t want toys or sweets from Santa’s sleigh, he wanted a friend. A friend who would always stay with him, who could sleep over sometimes. Jake was too old to play with him these days, and Troy could tell he only ever had to be nice. 

There were lots of places to play on the ranch, and a lot of things he could teach his new friend how to do. He could teach him how to hunt or how to climb the tallest trees – they could play together all day until Big Otto called him in at night. And then, because Troy was happy, they would see it too, and his mom and

Big Otto would smile. Maybe his mom would even like his friend too.

Troy even wrote a letter to Santa asking him for a friend, and he gave it to his mom. He beamed as he presented it, proud of how neatly he had written everything. He hadn’t even asked for help from Jake, and he was pretty sure that he had spelled every single word right. 

“Mommy,” he asked her, “Can you put a stamp on this and mail it? I wrote it to the North Pole. I just need a stamp.”

His mother curled up her nose and snatched the letter from his hand, throwing it to the ground. She stomped on it. 

“You think we have money to waste on stupid shit like this, Troy Otto? Go do something useful.”

Troy blinked back tears as she walked away. Now his friend would never, ever come play with him.

***

“It doesn’t usually snow in the desert, does it?” Nick Clark was stretched out against the freezing sand, his shoes off and toes curling inward. “Maybe this year we’ll get our chance, though. ‘I’m dreaming of a white Christmas…’”

Troy’s lip curled up in a smile as he looked down at him.

“How do we know if it’s near Christmas, though? It could be New Year’s… or Arbor Day, whatever that is.”

Nick scissored his legs outward and his arms, too, as if he was making a snow angel in the sand.

“It’s whatever we say it is, Troy. The apocalypse is ours.”

Troy laughed.

“If you say so, Nicky.” He paused, crouching down to his knees to meet Nick’s eyes. “Christmas never meant a lot to me growing up. I don’t know why it would start meaning something now.”

“People expect it to mean too much,” Nick replied, “Maybe that’s why there’s all that stuff about suicide going up during the holidays.” He frowned, as if remembering something and then deciding he would willfully forget it instead. “But… there’s that thing, when the lights all come up and you’re drawn in and you hear all the music. It’s that second. It’s magic. It grips you.” He pulled himself into a sitting position and reached out to grab Troy’s arm. “Like this.”

He stood up, hands on Troy’s shoulders with a cheeky grin.

“Can’t you just imagine?” Nick continued, “Climbing down the stairs in the morning and seeing all the presents under the tree. Even if it all turns out to be crap. For a moment, they can all be anything at all you want them to be.”

“Schrodinger’s presents,” Troy mused.

Nick laughed.

“Maybe you’re my present,” he said, then leaned in to press a kiss on Troy’s lips. The other man blinked, then smiled out of the corner of his mouth. 

“Nicky… You’re so sweet. Where’d you learn that? You take lessons?” He playfully nudged Nick in the shoulder. “We should get back. They’ll be wondering where we’ve been for all this time.”

“What should we tell them?”

Troy leaned back in and kissed Nick. 

“I don’t know.”

***

Ten-year-old Troy Otto lay awake in bed. He could hear the sound of Jake breathing in the bed across from him. He didn’t know how Jake could sleep at a time like this – Santa would be flying over soon. He would be dropping presents and, best of all, if Troy listened very closely he was sure that he would hear the tapping and galloping on the roof.

He wondered what reindeer looked like. In pictures, they had big antlers. He wondered if people could ride them or if that wasn’t okay to do. Maybe he could ask Jake, and Jake would tell him. Jake seemed to be getting frustrated with every question Troy asked now, though. He would always tell him to go play with someone else or just, recently, to “go away and don’t get into trouble”.

Troy always ended up getting into trouble. He couldn’t remember a day when someone had told him he had done good. But they were always telling Jake how good he was, how helpful he was around the ranch.

Troy they looked at with suspicion, like he was always doing something bad.

Troy didn’t want to be bad. He didn’t mean it.

Maybe Santa could bring him something that could help him to be good.

His eyelids felt heavy. 

He was sure that he heard a quiet jingle. He smiled.

***

“Nick…” Troy said as he looked out the window of the big house. Snow was beginning to fall. “Do you think that sometimes, if someone wants something so bad that nothing else matters, that it can really come true?”

“I have to,” Nick replied. He had his shirt half off despite the chill. “I’ve been waiting for my miracle to come along.”

“I’ve found mine,” Troy whispered. 

“How?”

“It’s you.”

Nick didn’t say anything for a very long time. Then he extended his hand, as if waiting for the flakes to fall into his palm.

“Merry Christmas, Troy.”

“Merry Christmas, Nicky.”


End file.
